She is easily found- for he desires it so, for he needs not scent nor sight to find the creature whom pulls and tugs upon the mere scrap of soul that existed within himself as darkened paws pace atop the earth and draw the nightmare from the depths of the darkness he relishes- the confines of his own, personal kingdom. He comes from the caves beneath the fields, the very bowels of Moladion itself, pathways known only to him, frequented only by he and Flare for never has another dared to tread within the darkness of his lair, never has another, an outsider, wandered so far into the darkened confines of his home beneath the earth to find the citadel of rock and stalactite that are so breath-taking in beauty they are lost upon a creature whom perceives nothing but shape and form as he navigates his home to slide like a wraith from between the cliffs and rocks to stride out and atop the field with path assured. Onward he travels, each stride drawn and extended in silence atop the earth as the blackened Angel comes and the land grows quite about him. Others flee hurriedly from his path, Mothers draw closer there children and smoke rises within the air from the flare of his nostrils as he draws closer and closer to the broken and cracked earth of the crags. He does not desire her presence, nor her company, he needs no other and yet instinct pulls, tugs and demands of him what he cannot deny. He does not question, does not argue, cannot understand and as such he does only as instinct demands of him in these moments as he seeks to soothe the abrasions of his soul and the wretched beast whom holds it.

Her scent grows thick, heavy as he approaches, ducking beneath rock and stone to follow her tail upon the fractured rock as what remains of his soul extends and pulls further and more reverently to seek her own. For she is his newest obsession and possession, his newest desire and though he returns to She of Red and White each night he is given to find curiosity in the darkened one whom had come before him within the fields and whose form he has ghosted ever since. He finds her where she stands, deadened emerald eyes turned upon her as a growl rises within that torn and shattered throat to announce his presence. He hungers for her, the taste of her flesh and blood so desirable to he and yet his demons recoil from this, snarl and rage and scrape against his skull and yet still they cannot allow his jaws to find place within her. He desires her and loathes her all at once, craves her flesh and yet cannot bring it harm- refuses to allow another to harm it in turn as he halts behind her, a loaming, darkened shadow within the gloom as he merely stops behind her.

He does not touch, does not reach, does not extend his muzzle, merely stares, unblinking, unmoving for several moments before he turns from her once more, moving towards another pile of stone to ease himself down and upon it, reclining within the darkness as his head lays atop his paws and those emerald eyes rest upon her- staring and nothing else, the insanity of his mind incapable of this perception of obscure behaviour as he merely watches her with intensity astounding…..